


"Merry Christmas, Detective"

by RosaClearwater



Series: "Hello, Finch." [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Hints of Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: Christmas had been far from John’s mind. His thoughts had been following the latest enigma, their new Number. But before he knew it the riddle had been solved and, for once, with almost no violence. Not a minute later, Hendricks was shooing him into the city with a light hearted command to get groceries because their stash was running low.Now, he's standing in the check-out line, wondering how the hell he’s managed to find himself in such an awkwardly thrilling moment. So awkward and so surprising this encounter is, in fact, that the vigilante hasn't actually responded yet.(Fluffier companion piece to "Hello, Finch.")





	"Merry Christmas, Detective"

“Merry Christmas, Detective,” A crinkling smile greets the man now whipping around in wonderment. “It appears we’ll be having a White Christmas after all.”

 

Christmas had been far from John’s mind. His thoughts had been following the latest enigma, their new Number. But before he knew it the riddle had been solved and, for once, with almost no violence. Not a minute later, Hendricks was shooing him back into the depths of the city with a light hearted command to get groceries because their stash was running low.

 

Now, he's standing in a packed check-out line, wondering how the hell he’s managed to find himself in such an awkwardly thrilling moment. So awkward and so surprising this encounter is, in fact, that the vigilante hasn’t actually responded yet.

 

“Surprising, I know.” But Harold's not talking about the chance encounter. He’s talking about the white blankets currently being draped over the grime that never quite leaves the city. "However, far less surprising than it would be if it were to snow in August." 

 

"Yeah." Well, at least he was able to respond this time around. 

 

"Everything alright, Detective?" 

 

Oh, the things he could say. The responses he could give. 

 

John wants to correct the man, explain that he’s not a detective and just lay the whole truth out. He wants to let all of the facts come to the surface, he wants to trust that those eyes will still crinkle with some form of affection even after they know all of what’s he done.  

 

He settles for a bland, repetitive response: “Yeah. I'm alright.”

 

Alright isn’t really be the word he’d use to describe the current situation. But, then again, he’s not really sure how the hell he’d describe the confusion and excitement that started up at hearing that invigorating voice again.

 

It’s a frighteningly nice feeling, this desire to spill everything in the middle of the check-out aisle.

 

But, the spilling doesn’t quite happen. Instead, he offers to walk the man back to his apartment.

 

“Need a hand?”

 

Weak excuse, seeing as Harold is only carrying two light bags and definitely doesn’t look like he'll need any help. Still, it's accepted with a widening smile and an inviting tilt of the head.

 

“I’d certainly appreciate any assistance, Detective.” 

 

_Please don't call me that._

 

He can't say this. Not just yet at least. He can only focus on striking up a surreal conversation, maintaining his distance while gaining delightful knowledge.

 

And it turns out that offering a hand isn't too weak of an excuse when said hand swings protectively to stop Harold from accidentally embracing a recklessly fast car.

 

“Oh my,” the foggy breath swirls into the air, dissipating slowly into shock. “You certainly have quite impeccable timing, Detective!”

 

John shrugs at this, eyes backing away from the praise. The urge to correct his title marches to the front once more, demanding attention for the umpteenth time.

 

“I pay attention.” He sticks to an understatement, managing to substitute that for " _I need to tell you the truth."_ at the very last second. Somehow, this switch is something Harold kind of catches. At the very least, he greets that understatement with a raised eyebrow and a teasing quirk of the lips.

 

“Indeed.”

 

The sun sneaks through the clouds, caressing them both with its rays. Cerulean drips through the clouds, inviting any and all to peer into the heavens. If the flurries didn’t now coat the streets, it almost could be a midsummer’s day.

 

The only differences is the fact that there is snow and it is _absolutely_ freezing.

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately perhaps, they've almost arrived in the square after trudging through the beautiful war zone that is New York City in the winter.

 

John's not quite ready to call it a day, even though he's chilled to the bone. Harold hasn't stopped beaming through it all. Hasn't uttered a single complaint through the frosty air.

 

If the distance closes between them on the walk, it's purely an attempt to conserve body heat. Furthermore, if the conversation soon changes to that of an invitation, well that's only natural when exploring any type of new relationship.

 

“I may be overstepping my bounds, Detective,” 

 

“John. Call me John.” 

 

The name is a step up in more than one way. And Harold acknowledges this with a delighted pause before continuing, eyes now dancing with a hint of something nice.

 

Something John wants to see a lot more of.

 

“In that case, _John_ ,” The emphasis sparks warmth in both of them. “I was wondering if would you care to accompany me in acquiring some ice cream? There's a stand right around the corner.” It's not the one near the dock, he never really wants to go there these days. But, the introvert tries not to deny himself this one little pleasure, even in the wintertime.   

 

The vigilante freezes in the sunny cold, shock lining his face as he unwittingly gives into a faint smile.

 

“That is, unless you have some form work or business to conduct?” Now it's Harold’s turn to let a flustered air drift through his tone, bringing words towards an uncertain pitch as the tips of his ears blush.

 

The vigilante doesn't have anything left for today. The latest number has been handled, Hendricks hasn't called him for more help, groceries have just been purchased, and he's already filled his quota of Fusco taunting for the week.

 

But, he sees a flash of red hair in the distance. Remembers exactly how the man before him knows his boss.

 

“I--”

 

He can feel Kara glaring at him from the shadows, sneering at his lack of control. Mocking his delight in wanting to trust again. Reminding him that that's no longer their prerogative, that those days are over for a ghost like him.

 

“It's quite alright, John.” Understanding is tinged with a carefully neutral tone, faint disappointment resonates with compassion. Harold gives a thin and practiced smile, letting his gaze slip to the floor as the blush fades.

 

And then John hears the sound of an airport. The chatter, the rolling of suitcases, the unspoken response. 

 

“I'd love to.”

 

The air pauses. Warms up as a hesitant gaze shifts upwards. A polite line quickly smooths into a genuine smile as curious eyes crinkle once again. 

 

A familiar beam pierces the air from those eyes, gladly meeting John's own gaze halfway. That trusting warmth that had been shared all those months ago comes back as they hold one another’s eyes for another blissful moment.

 

Eventually, the cold will dictate that they start to move. It'll soon be necessary to trudge once more.

 

But they can be still for another few seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by unexpected snowfall today :) It was supposed to be a drabble in the canon-verse, and well... you know how "supposed to be" goes.
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
